Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Palau and from Lyon.
But I was there.
I was there in 1962.
I was there at the first Guess Who show in Winnipeg.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1966 to 1977.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Madrid kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Robert Palmer started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing The Jesus and Mary Chain to the rap kids.
I played it at the Hacienda.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Gil Scott-Heron & Brian Jackson. All the underground hits.
All Television tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Tres Demented record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal dance hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '60s cut and another box set from the '90s.
I hear you're buying a marimba and a harpsichord and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Quando Quango record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your organ and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought an organ.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Black Moon,
Livin' Joy,
Man Eating Sloth,
Tears for Fears,
Spandau Ballet,
Heavy D & The Boyz,
The Mummies,
These Immortal Souls,
the Fania All-Stars,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Amon Düül,
Rod Modell,
T. Rex,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Tim Buckley,
The Peanut Butter Conspiracy,
Depeche Mode,
Bootsy Collins,
Johnny Clarke,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Teenage Jesus and the Jerks,
Altered Images,
Fear,
Max Romeo,
Rakim,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Ken Boothe,
X-101,
Liaisons Dangereuses,
Adolescents,
Henry Cow,
Rekid,
Boz Scaggs,
R.M.O.,
A Certain Ratio,
Symarip,
Moby Grape,
Cymande,
Gang Green,
Mad Mike,
Angry Samoans,
The Selecter,
Chris Corsano,
Fela Kuti,
Masters at Work,
A Flock of Seagulls,
Sam Rivers,
Lakeside,
Tom Boy,
DJ Sneak,
Harry Pussy,
Neu!,
Oneida,
Wings,
Massinfluence,
Nico,
Unwound,
Scrapy,
Franke,
David Bowie,
Bill Wells, Bill Wells, Bill Wells, Bill Wells.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.